Walking Far From Home
by blackrumsugarcane
Summary: The war had changed Hermione more than she cared to realize. She had become nothing more than the Order's best interrogator and fiercest fighter. Imagine her surprise when Draco Malfoy took it upon himself to remind her of who she used to be. A story about trust and love.
1. A Prisoner and His Pistol

Disclaimer: All things belonging to the fabulous JK Rowling belong to her. Forever grateful for the existence of the enterprise. Songs of inspiration are Walking Far From Home, by Iron and Wine, and Curbstomp, by Meg Myers.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The interrogation room was nothing more than a grey, barren room. The sparse furnishings consisted of one wooden table and two metal chairs, one on each side of the table. There were no barred windows to light the place, and the only way out was a heavy metal door on the far wall from where the prisoner sat.

He supposed that he could escape though, if he wanted to. But he knew there were heavy wards; he could feel them all around him. They were so heavy, it was difficult for the prisoner to stand, let alone walk. He supposed that if they hadn't taken his wand and had given him a couple of days, he could break out. But Draco Malfoy found that this time, luck was not on his side. He stared at the dark slab of metal across from him, waiting for it to part and reveal a glimpse of the outside world. He was so bored of waiting, and so desperate for the monotony to end, he willed the door to open, despite knowing that the result would not be in his favor. He lowered his head tiredly. It had been, if his approximations were correct, almost three days since he had been disarmed and captured.

_There was a cacophony of explosions, and flashing spellwork colored the thick, grey fog permeating the Scottish moorland. Draco ran across the field, flinging deadly spells at the ragtag group of Phoenixes, distinguishing them only by the thick red sashes they wore around their robes. Fools, he thought. So easy to identify. He stepped on the purple heather, crushing the fragile beauties under his foot as he engaged himself in a duel with a hooded Phoenix. The Phoenix was very talented in her wandwork, and flung offensive spell after offensive spell, pausing only to dodge, duck, or fling up hasty, strong shields. Then, a spell he wasn't expecting._

_He had been disarmed, but the spell had been nonverbal. Despite Expelliarmus being commonplace, it was difficult to cast nonverbally. Noting her expertise, Draco tried to summon his wand to him, but couldn't. He stared, shocked, as his wand latched itself to his opponent's wrist via a cord that hadn't been there before. Resorting to Muggle warfare, he whipped out a knife and got ready to throw it at his opponent before he was struck with a Stunner. He hadn't been quick enough. Agility in warfare was never his strong point._

_When he woke up, he found himself in this grey room. And so it was, for three days._

Draco looked up, tired of going over the same scene over and over again. He looked towards the door, and surprisingly, it opened. In walked Hermione Granger.

And in her hand was his wand, bound to her wrist by a cord of dragon leather.

His eyes widened.

"Malfoy."

"Mudblood? _You_ disarmed me?!" Draco made to rise before realizing that he couldn't. Those damned wards.

Granger stared at him impassively. She pulled the chair away from the table and sat down. Then, she peered at him, as if she was expecting something.

* * *

Hermione Granger stood in front of the door. She felt the wards pressing on her, before allowing her admittance. She stepped into the outer chamber and greeted Parvati Patil with a nod. Parvati recorded the time and date of Hermione's entrance, did a cursory check of Hermione's body for weapons other than her wands, and performed a quick Legilimens check to ensure that she had no plans of releasing the prisoner.

"Alright, Hermione, you're set," Parvati said tiredly. She had been working two days straight, taking Padma's shift because she had been injured in the last battle.

"Right, thanks, Parvati. Have a good one, yeah?"

Parvati nodded, then waved Hermione over to the metal door that led to the inner chamber. Hermione, who used to cringe whenever she had a confrontation with someone, opened the door decisively. The war had hardened her.

Immediately, she was met with the bewildered eyes of Draco Malfoy. His eyes wandered down her form, noticed that she had his wand, and finally, he realized that it was she who had disarmed him. As usual, his immediate reaction was childish and predictable, so she ignored him and sat down.

Hermione looked at Draco stonily. She allowed her eyes to search his features, still perfectly aristocratic, sharp, and _clean _even after the Order's intentional mistreatment of him. His appearance did not fool her, however. She detected in his eyes the tiniest hint of wariness. She inwardly smirked at that.

Hermione placed the thick file of papers she had carried in with her on the table, then opened it to the first page, where she briefly read a summation of his biographical details, as well as his health statistics. "Malfoy, nice to see that you're alive and well." Here, Hermione looked up at him. She looked back down at her file, then flipped through some of the pages they had collected on many, but not all, of his misdeeds. More than ten pages in total. She looked back up, letting her disgust creep into her face. He noticed, and leaned back in his chair, smirking. She pursed her lips, then set the file under her chair.

"I'm obviously here to interrogate you," Hermione said.

Draco snorted. "I'm not telling you anything."

"I'm prepared to torture you, and won't hesitate to do so," Hermione deadpanned.

At this, Draco laughed heartily. "Granger, you wouldn't hurt a fly. Fuck, you Stunned me when you could have used so many other spells."

"I needed you alive, Malfoy."

Malfoy responded by staring at her pointedly.

"Alright then," Hermione sighed, standing up and stretching her hands above her head. She turned to face the door, then quickly, with the agility of a ruthless fighter, she swung her wand arm around and pointed Draco's own wand at him. "_Crucio_!"

And suddenly, the still air was rent with Draco Malfoy's screams.


	2. Too Loud

Hey all! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Sorry for the long wait, I was busy with Winter Song. But please read, review, and share! As you know, your reviews keep me going, and I'd love for this story to gain momentum. I swear it gets good.

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**Chapter 2**

Draco idly wondered when the noise would stop. Granger had stopped the curse minutes ago, but his throat still released a throaty, animalistic growl.

_Stop it,_ he commanded himself. _You are weak._

He looked up from where he had fallen, only to see Granger looking at the thick folder again, and wondered if they had recorded all of his crimes, and how they got that information anyway.

"We have our ways," Granger said. Her voice seemed detached, but it rang high and clear in the suddenly cavernous room, answering his unspoken question.

Of course she was a Legilimens. "If you can read my mind, why don't you just use Legilimens on me and call it a day?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

"Obviously because you're an Occlumens." Hermione still hadn't looked at him since she lowered his wand.

_His wand._ He was amazed the thing yielded to her. Traitorous thing. At this thought, Draco heard Granger slide the folder back under her chair. He looked up to see her examining his wand.

"Your wand is a lot like mine, Malfoy. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know, or shall I continue?"

Draco really didn't want to answer her question, so he opted for asking one of his own. "So, tell me. When did you become this ruthless?"

Hermione's eyes flicked back to his, and she smirked. Then she stood up tiredly, as if she had better things to be doing than torturing one of Voldemort's top generals. With a flick of her wrist, she moved the table over to the wall to the right of her. She Vanished the chair he had sat on, and before he could react, she conjured heavy chains that bound his wrists to the ceiling. All this was done in the span of two seconds, and without the use of either wand that she had on her person.

"I must say, I'm surprised that I felled you, Malfoy," Hermione said, sitting back in her cold metal chair.

Draco spat a globule of blood and saliva onto the ground, then tried to strain his wrists against his shackles. For the purposes of his interrogation, Hermione had transformed Draco's holding cell into a dungeon. He looked up then, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. The shock of being tortured by Gryffindor's Golden Girl had worn off. Draco, in his arrogance, had forgotten that this was war, and that Hermione was the brightest witch of her time. Now, facing her and her wands (she had used both on him), Draco chose to be careful with his words.

"It was luck, Mu-Granger. You wouldn't have been able to do it otherwise." Well, more careful then he would have been.

"Well, your inadequacy cost your side a lot."

Draco flinched at the use of the word "inadequacy," then proceeded to glare at Hermione.

"Besides," she continued, "it's clear from the way you fight that agility is not your strong suit."

Silence from Draco.

"You know, Parkinson was sure you'd be willing to cooperate," Hermione said, twirling her own wand lazily.

Draco's eyes widened. "You have Pansy?!"

"I'll tell you if you tell me," Hermione said, a slight smile twitching her lips.

"No fucking way, you Mudblood bitch!" Draco spat on the ground again, his demeanor revealing just how much he reviled this "new" Hermione. How could someone change so much over the course of the years?

"Same way you changed, I suppose. We _are_ fighting the same war. Or did you forget," Hermione asked sarcastically, walking forward to jab her wand into the soft hollow of Draco's throat. "Now, tell me what I want and I'll go easy on Pansy," she whispered, her eyes moving up to look into his.

Draco shook his head roughly, trying to remove himself from the painful thrust of Hermione's wand. He pursed his lips and refused to speak.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Alright then," she said. She turned around, heading towards the door, then decided against opening it and going through Parvati's exhaustive round of security procedures. She conjured a Patronus, a very faint outline of an otter, Draco noticed, and sent it to Parvati with a message.

_"Bring in Parkinson."_

She spent the next couple of minutes alternating between reviewing the thick file and flinging cuts and hexes at Draco nonchalantly. The room echoed with his labored breathing, and Hermione was very aware of the tasking way he tried to keep his emotions under control. Several times she looked up at him with blank eyes, refusing to register the blood that had pooled around his heavily-booted feet. She would not make the same mistake she had at the beginning of the war.

Finally, the heavy metal door opened and Parkinson's bound figure was shoved through. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed ominously as Draco stared incredulously at Pansy's shaking figure. "You captured her too?!" he burst, livid. He had lost his composure, finally.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, in the off chance that you wouldn't cooperate. They were going to trade her last night, you know, for that prisoner exchange bollock that they do, but I figured she'd be more useful here with us, in order to _persuade_ you."

Draco continued staring as Hermione pulled Pansy up and sat her on the table that Hermione had pushed to the side of the chamber. Hermione tilted Pansy's chin up. "How about it, Parkinson? Think he will cooperate?"

Even though Pansy refused to look in Draco's direction, he believed he could detect her fear. He saw tears roll down her cheeks as she looked into the far corner of the room, not wanting to acknowledge him. Draco knew she didn't want to pressure him, and that only made him more angry. The girl was innocent, for fuck's sake! Only guilty by association.

"God damn it, Granger! Pansy has nothing to do with this war!" Draco shouted.

"But she's a sympathizer," Hermione deadpanned. "And her father is a prominent Death Eater."

"Are you fucking kidding me?! She was at Hogwarts! She doesn't follow her father's creed anymore." Draco breathed heavily, then spoke, his voice hoarse and loaded with disgust. "How- how did you find her?"

"We have our ways," Hermione replied. "Now, are you going to do what I want, or am I going to have to torture Pansy here?" Hermione was still facing Pansy, who looked into her eyes resentfully.

Draco looked on, helpless. "She's an innocent!"

"Boy, Malfoy. You're not willing to cooperate, are you? And you keep yelling!" Hermione inhaled deeply. "Please, keep your voice down." She walked towards him. "Are you sure you want to go down this route?"

Draco looked at Pansy, and what he saw made him look at Hermione in a new light. Pansy had her face lowered, and trembled very slightly, looking like, to Draco, the very embodiment of fear.

"Well?" Hermione questioned.

"What do you want to know," Draco asked, resigned.

* * *

"Can't believe that worked, Granger," said a deep male voice from behind Hermione.

She didn't look up, and continued to read her book on defensive magic.

"You didn't hurt Pansy, did you?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, yawning and stretching her arms above her. "For a spy, you're really dense," she continued. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the work you do," she chuckled, finally able to relax after her taxing assignment, "but you've known Draco for years. You should have known better than to think that coercing him would work." Hermione shook her head at the dark figure that walked past her to the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Would you believe me if I said I was testing your instincts?" Blaise Zabini sat down, stretching his long legs out under the small table and nudging Hermione's own out of the way. He was anxious to know how the interrogation went, and waited for Hermione to divulge her tale.


End file.
